Stone Cold
by secretfanficlover
Summary: Lessons with Alecto Carrow definitely isn't fun for anyone. Warnings: Violence, abuse, torture


**This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

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Word Count: 627

Title: Stone Cold

Note: Set during 7th year at Hogwarts.

Warnings: Violence, abuse, torture

Beta: Aya

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Golden Snitch

[Name] Crissie

[School] Uagadou

[House] Ogyinae

Care of Magical Creatures: Dragons- write about someone with a temper

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Hogwarts

Assignment 6: Men's History: Historical Men Involved in the Arts: Task #1 - William Shakespeare - Tragedy, Comedy or History. Write a fic that falls into one of these categories.

Yearly:

Prompt 146 [Plot Point] Brainwashing

Word 178 [Word] Heritage

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Alecto Carrow was one of the worst teachers Hogwarts had ever seen, and that was saying something. It was clear she couldn't stand them, and she revelled in using corporal punishment if anyone spoke back to her. It was during one of her lessons that Neville Longbottom, a blood traitor, gave her the excuse to do just that. She taught Muggle Studies, and her brainwashing techniques were clear. If brainwashing didn't work, she resorted to violence and fear.

"I have a question," Neville said, his hand raised in the air.

"Yes?" Alecto replied.

"I am finding it hard to concentrate, was it the fact that Muggle-borns are lesser, or just that they are unworthy of wielding magic?" Neville asked.

"Would it help you focus if I extracted some of your vital organs and made a lovely soup?" Alecto replied. Many cowered, even as her wrath was directed at Neville.

Neville tried to look sheepish and added, "How pure is your blood, _Professor_?"

"Detention," she said, seething with outrage. "Any other stupid questions?" she added to the cowering class in front of her, seeing all their eyes cast down to their work, she took that as a no.

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After class she took Neville into the dungeons, where she was met with her brother, Amycus.

"I smell children," Amycus muttered, taking one look at Neville behind his sister.

"I promise it won't hurt… much," Alecto said with a soulless smile. Neville didn't believe her for a second. It didn't take longer than a minute before the torture began, and he felt himself withdraw into himself, trying to remain concious and alive.

"_Crucio!" _Alecto cried, and as Neville fell to the ground, Amycus took his wand from him. It was clear to Neville this woman was a monster, and her brother was no better. He almost wished they had Umbridge back instead—almost.

Before he could shake off the effects of the curse, he was handcuffed and faced towards the wall. Amycus took out a long whip, giving it to Alecto. Her hand was swift and steady as she brought down blow after blow onto Neville's back, ripping the back of his robes. She hit the same spot over and over until the lines were visible on his back. He didn't dare fall as the blows struck him, he knew from experience it would be worse. He refused to live by their rules.

"You may think I'm small, but I have a universe inside my mind," he whispered as the whip came down again. Alecto didn't hear his voice, and for that he was thankful. Neville felt like he was in purgatory. Once the swishing sound of the whip stopped, he hoped it was over.

"You," she spat. "think you have any right to question _me_, you filthy blood traitor," she added. She aimed a kick at the back of his knees, making him fall to the ground. She was wearing mustard coloured boots, as she aimed the next kick at his face, he tried to cover his face, realising that his hands were still handcuffed together, he tried to bring them both up, but that just made her kick him harder. It was clear it wasn't just the question about her heritage that brought this about, but also her pure evil. The sleeves off her robes had been rolled up, and he saw the dark mark clearly. He took the blows that perhaps some other child didn't have to, and as much as he knew he would survive, he would sacrifice himself to save the younger children.

"I should kill you," she said with venom. "But, sometimes dead is better." She spat on the lying body of the bruised and bloodied child, uncuffed him, and left him there, barely conscious.


End file.
